


Exile on Main Street

by GoodGollyMissYollie (Yollie183)



Series: Ride The Lightning [9]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drinking, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Language, M/M, Prostitution, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9182899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yollie183/pseuds/GoodGollyMissYollie
Summary: Steve Rogers works for a discreet private security company and gets assigned to James Barnes, a musician who takes the idea of 'sex, drugs and rock 'n roll' just a little too seriously.***THIS IS A COMPANION WORK TOGoddamn Electric***





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, I asked the wonderful people who are reading my fic [Goddamn Electric](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6756670/chapters/15441367) if they wanted scenes from Bucky's POV, and this is that!  
> Please go read that if you haven't yet, this won't make sense out of context (sorry!)
> 
> Title from the album of the same name by The Rolling Stones.
> 
> Also, a note on Bucky: He is not asexual. His past experiences with sex have just sort of led him to believe that sex is mostly unpleasant and something done to him, not something fulfilling and pleasurable done by two people who share a mutual attraction.

_I don’t mind where you come from As long as you come to me_

_But I don’t like illusions I can’t see_

_Them clearly_

_I don’t care, no I wouldn't dare_

_To fix the twist in you_

_You've shown me eventually what you'll do_

_I don’t mind_

_I don’t care_

_As long as you're here_

_Go ahead and tell me you'll leave again_

_You'll just come back running_

_Holding your scarred heart in hand_

_It's all the same_

_And I'll take you for who you are_

_If you take me for everything_

_And do it all over again_

_It's all the same_

_Hours slide and days go by_

_Till you decide to come_

_But in-between it always seems too long_

_Suddenly_

_But I have the skill, yeah_

_I have the will, to breath you in while I can_

_However long you stay is all that I am_

_I don’t mind, I don’t care_

_As long as you're here_

_Wrong or Right_

_Black or White_

_If I close my eyes_

_It’s all the same_

_\- All the Same, Sick Puppies_

~

 

Bucky heard Steve’s Harley before he saw it. Steve was going too fast, displaying a hint of recklessness that he usually kept in check, but he still brought the bike to a smooth stop next to the sidewalk.

Bucky watched the play of the muscles in his thighs through the thin denim of his black jeans and swallowed heavily before pushing off the wall of the studio building and striding toward Steve. He’d been on the bike that morning, too, the ride to the studio had gone by much too fast with Bucky all but wrapped around Steve’s broad back. Honestly, the man’s shoulder to waist ratio was just plain unfair.

It had taken Bucky by surprise, how quickly his thoughts about Steve had changed since the one kiss they’d shared. Where he’d always viewed Steve with intimidation mixed with aggravation, now he seemed more human, and Bucky had begun to notice things – like the color of his eyes and the way he smiled and how handsome he really was – and it scared Bucky more than he let on.

Because if Steve was no longer something pure and unattainable, then it meant Bucky could _want_ , something that has never happened to him before.

Steve handed Bucky a helmet as he reached the bike, and he put it on, before putting his hands on Steve’s shoulders for leverage to straddle the bike. Steve was warm and solid and Bucky carefully shifted to wrap his arms around his slim waist.

 _You shouldn’t be touching him, Jimmy,_ his mind whispered, but Bucky ignored it. Touching Steve felt good.

“So, where to?”

Bucky leaned closer to answer Steve. “Luke’s.”

The Harley roared beneath them and Bucky tightened his grip as they pulled into traffic. Steve rode too fast, taking chances with Manhattan traffic that had Bucky squeezing his eyes shut, but even so, he felt stupidly safe with Steve, trusting him not to let him get hurt.

Luke’s was moderately busy, but not too loud or uncomfortable, and Bucky couldn’t help but gaze in wonder at tipsy Steve, telling dumb jokes with a flush high on his cheeks and a smile perpetually pulling one corner of his mouth upwards. Steve also, unconsciously it seemed, became more touchy-feely with each shot of bourbon Bucky passed him. Light nudges of his shoulder became slaps on his back became Steve’s warm hand laying on Bucky’s forearm as he leaned toward Bucky to tell a very inappropriate joke with a somber expression on his face. At some point Steve started pushing his own shots toward Bucky, who downed them even though he knew it was a bad idea.

They called an Uber to get back to Bucky’s house, Steve’s keys having been confiscated by Luke after their second round. They made it inside and onto the couch, Bucky curling up against Steve’s side, the alcohol in his bloodstream drowning out the voice in his head screaming at him that he shouldn’t touch.

Steve said something Bucky didn’t fully catch but boiled down to him having drunk too much.

“Lightweight,” Bucky teased, digging a fingertip into Steve’s taut stomach muscles. “Grandpa.”

“Still younger than you,” Steve muttered.

“When’s your birthday?” Bucky couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked Steve before.

“July fourth,” came the answer and Bucky realized Steve had been with him that day. They’d stayed in that night, because Steve’s expression had flickered with panic when Wade had mentioned fireworks a few days before.

“You never said! Why’d you never say? We could’ve had a party or s’mthin’.”

Bucky felt Steve’s shoulders move beneath him. “’S not that big of a deal.”

But it was, even in Bucky’s alcohol clouded mind.

“Yeah, it is. We should’ve had cake. Chocolate cake. With blue icing. And M&M’s.”

Bucky felt Steve lightly pet the top of his head, a surprisingly nice feeling. “There, there. It’s just cake.”

“Chocolate cake,” Bucky could picture it in his mind’s eye.

“I don’t like chocolate cake,” Steve said, and Bucky took it as a grievous insult.

“You shut your blasphemous mouth!” He put a hand over Steve’s mouth in an attempt to block out the horrible thought of anyone not liking chocolate cake, and felt something hot and wet slide over his palm. Steve had licked him.

“Ew,” Bucky wiped the moisture off on Steve’s soft shirt. It was quiet for a few moments, and Bucky closed his eyes, warm and comfortable this close to Steve. He could fall asleep like this, wake up in the morning curled against Steve’s solid body, safe and happy. The thought scared him, though not as much as it terrified him to realize how much he wanted it.

“Stevie. You scare me sometimes.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Regretted it immediately as Steve moved to sit up.

“Why?” Steve asked.

Bucky moved closer to Steve again, not liking the sudden distance between them. He threw his legs over Steve’s not keep him in place and curled into his side again, breathing in the scent of him.

“Because you’re so good,” he muttered. “I’ve never met someone as good as you.”

“I’m not, Bucky,” Steve started to say, but it was too absurd and Bucky would not hear it.

“Yes, you are.” Bucky knew he should stop speaking, but the words just came tumbling out anyway. “And it scares me, ‘cause I think I want you and sometimes I don’t care that I’d never deserve you.”

Bucky felt Steve tense. “Bucky.”

“Don’t,” Bucky whispered. He didn’t want to hear Steve’s apologies, didn’t want to be let down easily. “Just don’t say anything, please?”

Steve gave a small grunt, then his hand folded around the back of Bucky’s neck and he felt his head tipped back to meet Steve’s gaze.

“God, Buck, how could you ever think you don’t deserve me?”

Steve sure lived up to his blond hair sometimes, Bucky thought as he rolled his eyes. “Steve, you read the file, you know about Russia, you know what I am.”

Bucky’s wish that Steve would agree and let the subject drop was ignored.

“I know you’re a good man,” Steve said quietly, and oh, that wasn’t what Bucky thought he’d say at all. “Bucky, I won’t say I don’t care about your past, because I do care about how much pain you endured, and I’d give anything for you not to have had to go through that. But it doesn’t make any difference to how I feel about you.”

It wasn’t what Bucky was expecting at all, his mind reeling to make sense of Steve’s words. “How you… feel about me?”

Indifference? Disgust? Revulsion? He watched the bob of Steve’s adam’s apple as he swallowed audibly.

“I’ve been in love with you for months,” Steve said, and for a moment Bucky was sure this had to be a cruel joke. There was no version of reality where someone like Steve could feel anything remotely like love for Bucky.

But Bucky was drunk and the sting in his chest at Steve’s words felt like hope, so he reached up to touch Steve’s face and kissed him. It was nothing like the first kiss, there was no anger in Bucky now and he savored every careful movement of lips and tongue. Steve tasted sweet, like the bourbon he’s consumed, and Bucky wanted more. He leaned back, pulling Steve down on top of him, wanting Steve’s body flush against his. Steve’s hips settled between Bucky’s thighs and he bit at Steve’s lips, arching into the contact, wanting more. Then Steve pulled away, and Bucky whined, hooking one leg around Steve’s hips to urge him closer again.

“Don’t you want to fuck me?” His voice was rough.

“No, Buck, we can’t.” Steve sat back, pulling away from Bucky completely. It hurt. God, it hurt.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re drunk.”

“So?” Why did it matter that he was drunk? Steve was drunk, too.

“So, if you’re drunk, you can’t give consent. And I’m not doing anything you don’t consent to.”

The words were noble, but Bucky knew they were just words. Steve had said he didn’t care about Bucky’s past, but here he was, unwilling to sully himself with something as dirty as Bucky. It hurt even more that Steve would lie about it.

“If you don’t want me, say so. You don’t need to think up some ridiculous excuse.” Bucky wanted escape, wanted his bed and his box and his needle, but Steve snatched his hand, keeping him where he was.

“It’s not an excuse,” Steve said, facing Bucky, lying still, so convincingly. “I want you, God, you have no idea how much. But not when you’re not sober, okay?”

Bucky didn’t know what else to do, so he nodded. “Okay,” he said, even though it was anything but.

“Okay,” Steve repeated, then kissed Bucky’s forehead. “I’m going to bed. Sweet dreams, Buck.”

“G’night, Steve,” Bucky said listlessly, waiting in the living room, immobile, until he heard Steve’s bedroom door close.

Only then did he make his way upstairs to his room. He closed the door and pulled the box from under his bed. He found a half-empty bottle of vodka in the box and decided it would go very well with his heroin.

_You almost believed him, Jimmy. How pathetic. No wonder he didn’t want you, filthy boy._

He shot up, much more than his usual dose, wanting, needing, anything to numb him to Steve’s rejection.

 

_You were never any good except on your knees, Jimmy, and he didn’t even want you there, not even with you all but begging for it._

It hurt. He knew Steve would never want him, knew it was laughable to even consider Steve’s confession of love as anything more than drunk babble. But he _wanted_ it, wanted it to be true and real and it just made the harsh reality hurt even worse.

 

_Pathetic, Jimmy. You will never be anything but a dirty whore, Jimmy._

The needle’s tiny sting soothed none of the ache in his chest, but soon enough the vodka and the heroin lulled him into warm, dreamless sleep where nothing could ever hurt again.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading/ kudoing/ commenting.


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